Post by do on Sept 1, 2009 2:52:30 GMT -5
AUGUST 18TH 2165, 0600 hrs
Rickmans' House
Utopia Planetia Quarter
Gaia
She was warm. Warm and comfortable. She was feeling herself drifting, being pulled and following willingly. Sloane blinked slowly, her eyelashes tickling the skin beneath the right side of her face.
Huh? Whose skin? Whose bunk?
Remaining deathly still, her breathing carrying on lightly, the fraction of a second of panic passed and Sloane relaxed once more. Oh, yes. Gunnery Sergeant Derick Rickman, MACO - Gaia contingent. His digs, his bed. Utopia Planetia quarter.
Cradled in his arms, her right hand tightened around his left shoulder where her head lay while her right moved across his solid chest and stole a few pleasures she rarely indulged in. She followed the light trail of hair to his belly button and beyond. Her left hand cupping him, she smiled against him. Oh, yes, indeed.
Finding comfort and short interludes of male companionship weren't totally alien for Sloane. But spending the night and actually falling asleep beside a... lover... was. Had she just considered Derick her lover? Hell.
Her responsible side was already waking up at the fringes of her conscious mind, but she pushed it away. She could feel guilty later, when the sun was up. It had happened, it was done. Might as well enjoy the few more moments they could steal from their situation.
She stretched carefully, languid and moulded to his body, and kissed his breast as she glanced up at his sleeping face and settled back down again. Her left hand gave him a last squeeze before moving up to his waist, hugging him close to her. Yes, she'd wait 'til morning to freak about her behaviour.
Totally lost in sleep, Derick only knew warmth and comfort; an ease he'd not felt in a long time. The feeling was accompanied by a brief moment of pleasure. As it drifted away, he reacted to its loss in his sleep. Moving his legs a fraction, he tightened the warm body to him. Even in his sleep, he knew it was Sloane.
Their legs entwined, she felt his left thigh push further between her legs. God, she could get used to this, she thought wistfully. As he gathered her closer, his left hand sank in her hair for a moment, before finding its previous spot on her ribs, just below her left breast. Sloane sighed, content and wishing she could stay awake by his side to commit every detail to memory. But already her eyelids felt like lead and his heartbeat was a slow rhythm she couldn't fight.
~
Sloane found that she had fallen asleep again after all and felt cheated. Now, by how she was pressing her face in his back to escape the brightness of daylight, she knew the sun was up, and with it came her responsibilities and the consequences of her line of conduct. When the ramifications of what she had let happen hit, she couldn't escape and it woke her up good and proper as surely as a bucket of freezing water.
They had shifted positions in the night and when she willed her eyes to open, she was greeted by this cool tattoo on his back. Derick was facing the wall, half sprawled on his front and half on his right side, and Sloane had followed him, spooning him from behind.
Her feelings were already warring as she tried to explain to herself why she felt so domesticated with this particular man and how bad of an idea that was. She had slept like a baby with a stranger in his own sheets. That alone scared the hell out of her. Despite his well-known reputation, instinctively she knew Derick had given just as much as she, but it's how willing she had been, and how she still was, that made her pay attention. This could only end badly. She knew that much. What had she been thinking? She hadn't been. That was it. Like some hormone-fuelled teenager, she had followed her libido, that was what. But was it really all it was? She sighed, refusing to move yet.
Her eyes now adjusted to the sun streaming through the blinds covering the window behind her, she took the time to look at him. Her right hand played in his short hair, massaging the base of his skull lightly, and her left hand followed the shape of the grim reaper tattooed on his back. It was a MACO tat, she was pleased to find, with Earth and Mars held above one of the reaper's hands, and with the scythe in the other. The words written beneath were something she could deeply relate to. Well, they all could, but for her specifically, on that morning, they echoed and resonated with all she had lost and what she couldn't let herself have.
'My blade will not rest, Xindi.'
His blade wouldn't, she knew, and neither would hers. And with their jobs came the frat rules and regs. There were no ifs or buts about it. It was a no-no. By letting this happened, not only had she potentially put herself in deep shit, she may have very well ended his career. With the Xindi threat, the last thing they needed was to lose good soldiers for a night of carnal pleasures. But you trust him. That voice again. Did she really? Letting her guard down like this she hadn't done in years. Trust or no, this could not be good. It was a bad sign. It was dangerous, she told herself.
She pulled her other hand draped over his ribs and caressed along his side to the back of his thigh before going over his bum appreciatively and finding the dimples on his lower back. What are you doing, kiddo? Getting an eyeful while he sleeps, while you still can, before you slip out like a coward? Right. Kissing his back one last time, she pushed herself away from him. She sat on the side of his bed gingerly, hoping she could make good her escape without waking him up.
Grabbing her clothes from the floor by the bed, she got dressed quickly, silently, her eyes fixed on his face partly hidden by the sheet and pillow. He looked so young. His features were relaxed in his sleep and since she knew first hand about his training, about how you always slept with one eye opened, she knew he trusted her too. Somehow.
She picked up her boots, and turning back to him, she felt a yearning that only strengthened her resolve. You're getting soft in your old age, McRae, she kicked herself mentally. Come on, get out.
Bending down to kiss him again, because, hell, she couldn't help it, her attention was once more caught by those little scars peppering his shoulders and shoulder blades. In the daylight, she could tell now that they weren't caused by shrapnel or any kind of weapon she knew. And thinking of Mars, she couldn't find anything that would have left this kind of marks. Peering closer, her index hovered above one. It looked like a burn, she decided. A cigarette burn? She swallowed thickly, not liking where this probably went. And again, she surprised herself - and scared herself - with how much she wanted to know, wanted to know about him, wanted to know him. Christ, get a grip.
With that, she stood up and with a look of regret etched on her face, she headed for the door.
-
He'd woken up in the middle of the night, hearing a banging of sorts. A couch or wall. Julian wasn't really sure, but forgetting where he was, he shot up in bed all too prepared to be dragged out of bed by Thom. One who never could sleep light, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he read the LED before remembering where he was. In his room. The noises continued and soon Julian put an I.D. on them, and not wishing to hear Derick and his flavour of the week, the younger brother pulled the covers up over his shoulder and began a softly sung round of "When the Saints go Marching In" in good attempt to put himself back to sleep and dismiss the animal love making going on in the next room.
The next morning, Julian awoke bright and early, needing to get to his lab for report writing that was due. A random woman's shirt had been flung to the side of the couch, and not recognizing it, Jules had picked it up, folded it and set it on the end of the table where he now sat. Donned in nothing more than boxers and a sleeveless tee-shirt, he sat eating his breakfast and going over his padd.
Quietly, Sloane opened the door and slipped out of Derick's room. The fact that she had managed to get up, fondle around for her clothes and get out without waking Derick wasn't lost on her, and only reinforced her resolve to do what she was about to. Taking a deep breath, her hand still on the door, she tried to calm herself. Now, the shirt. She knew it had to be in his living area somewhere. She remembered that much.
Turning around, she nearly dropped the boots she held tight to her chest.
Hearing Derick's door open, Julian turned, half-expecting it to be his brother. Instead, it was a nice view of a dark haired woman who had to be only a few years older then they were. Realizing he should probably have left the shirt in the bathroom for her, he cursed his lack of courtesy but there was really nothing he could do about it now.
Putting down his utensil, Julian greeted Sloane. "Good morning. Sleep well?" Because this woman was Derick's, and because he had been in this similar situation before, Jules was not in the least bit phased or freaked out by his brother's women.
Sloane swallowed nervously. The last thing she had anticipated was to meet someone on her way out. This was another sign why all this was such a bad idea. At any other time, she wouldn't have entered a stranger's place without casing it first, she wouldn't have slept so deeply, and she wouldn't be caught half dressed by her lover's brother trying to flee. Lover? She was doing it again. This was getting SO out of hand.
Clearing her throat as she approached the kitchen table, she replied with a nod, "'Morning... yes, I did." And at least that was the truth. She hadn't slept much, but the few hours she had, had been the best in a long while. Her eyes quickly appraised the man sitting at the table and she added, "You his twin?" It was like she was looking at a version of Derick with longer hair, slightly softer lines. It was uncanny.
It was rude of him to simply sit there, so getting to his feet, he stuck out his hand to Sloane. "Yes. Sorry. Julian. Julian Rickman," he added, because sometimes they didn't get Derick's last name. "Are you hungry?"
Well, that was certainly a surprise. A twin, and a well-mannered one at that. The siblings were like night and day to her in that moment, and it was somewhat in a daze that she automatically extended her hand to grab hold of his, giving it a good, firm shake.
"Nice to meet you," she said, declining to give her name for obvious reasons. Well at least to her. "Thanks for the invite but err..." she said, glancing behind her at Derick's room, "I gotta go." Her voice had taken a pained tone suddenly and she pulled her hand back nervously. "I'm sorry," she said, already starting to step back, towards the door.
"Oh, no. It's okay. Derick never minds." He gestured to the kitchen. "I can make you some breakfast... No trouble really. We have eggs. A bacon substitute. I can even fake you a really mean omelette."
Confused, she narrowed her eyes at him. Derick never minds? "Aw, hell," she let out when she caught the meaning. "No, really. Thanks, but this is a bad idea." Turning around, this time she made it to the front door. Keying it open, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes moist. She swallowed hard again. "Tell Der... Tell your brother I'm sorry."
She was leaving so fast, and glancing back to Derick's door, he wondered if they had a fight or something for his brother to still be asleep. No. She said to say... well shoot. That could mean anything. "Okay..." Julian's voice sounded off confused.
Glancing at the table, the brother grabbed the neatly folded clothing. "Wait! Your shirt!" His long stride quickly crossed the distance and offered Sloane her belonging.
Shirt? Oh, shit, her shirt! She would have looked really dumb walking around town barely dressed as she was. "Thanks. Thanks for everything, Julian," she said, pulling the garment on.
"No... problem." He could only guess they got into a fight and taking a few steps back, Julian backed off. Still, the free show went on, and he nodded at her.
She opened her mouth as if to say something else then thought better of it. "Goodbye."
"Um.. take care then. Goodbye." By far, this was one of the most bizarre of them.
Stepping outside in the chilly morning rain, Sloane dropped her boots to the ground and stepped into them. "Shit, shit, shit!" she cursed as she stalked off, not looking back.
Returning to his breakfast, he thought on the event for a small while, but soon dismissed it. Julian could never keep up with Derick and his girls. Oh, Jules should have such a problem.
..
Rickmans' House
Utopia Planetia Quarter
Gaia
She was warm. Warm and comfortable. She was feeling herself drifting, being pulled and following willingly. Sloane blinked slowly, her eyelashes tickling the skin beneath the right side of her face.
Huh? Whose skin? Whose bunk?
Remaining deathly still, her breathing carrying on lightly, the fraction of a second of panic passed and Sloane relaxed once more. Oh, yes. Gunnery Sergeant Derick Rickman, MACO - Gaia contingent. His digs, his bed. Utopia Planetia quarter.
Cradled in his arms, her right hand tightened around his left shoulder where her head lay while her right moved across his solid chest and stole a few pleasures she rarely indulged in. She followed the light trail of hair to his belly button and beyond. Her left hand cupping him, she smiled against him. Oh, yes, indeed.
Finding comfort and short interludes of male companionship weren't totally alien for Sloane. But spending the night and actually falling asleep beside a... lover... was. Had she just considered Derick her lover? Hell.
Her responsible side was already waking up at the fringes of her conscious mind, but she pushed it away. She could feel guilty later, when the sun was up. It had happened, it was done. Might as well enjoy the few more moments they could steal from their situation.
She stretched carefully, languid and moulded to his body, and kissed his breast as she glanced up at his sleeping face and settled back down again. Her left hand gave him a last squeeze before moving up to his waist, hugging him close to her. Yes, she'd wait 'til morning to freak about her behaviour.
Totally lost in sleep, Derick only knew warmth and comfort; an ease he'd not felt in a long time. The feeling was accompanied by a brief moment of pleasure. As it drifted away, he reacted to its loss in his sleep. Moving his legs a fraction, he tightened the warm body to him. Even in his sleep, he knew it was Sloane.
Their legs entwined, she felt his left thigh push further between her legs. God, she could get used to this, she thought wistfully. As he gathered her closer, his left hand sank in her hair for a moment, before finding its previous spot on her ribs, just below her left breast. Sloane sighed, content and wishing she could stay awake by his side to commit every detail to memory. But already her eyelids felt like lead and his heartbeat was a slow rhythm she couldn't fight.
~
Sloane found that she had fallen asleep again after all and felt cheated. Now, by how she was pressing her face in his back to escape the brightness of daylight, she knew the sun was up, and with it came her responsibilities and the consequences of her line of conduct. When the ramifications of what she had let happen hit, she couldn't escape and it woke her up good and proper as surely as a bucket of freezing water.
They had shifted positions in the night and when she willed her eyes to open, she was greeted by this cool tattoo on his back. Derick was facing the wall, half sprawled on his front and half on his right side, and Sloane had followed him, spooning him from behind.
Her feelings were already warring as she tried to explain to herself why she felt so domesticated with this particular man and how bad of an idea that was. She had slept like a baby with a stranger in his own sheets. That alone scared the hell out of her. Despite his well-known reputation, instinctively she knew Derick had given just as much as she, but it's how willing she had been, and how she still was, that made her pay attention. This could only end badly. She knew that much. What had she been thinking? She hadn't been. That was it. Like some hormone-fuelled teenager, she had followed her libido, that was what. But was it really all it was? She sighed, refusing to move yet.
Her eyes now adjusted to the sun streaming through the blinds covering the window behind her, she took the time to look at him. Her right hand played in his short hair, massaging the base of his skull lightly, and her left hand followed the shape of the grim reaper tattooed on his back. It was a MACO tat, she was pleased to find, with Earth and Mars held above one of the reaper's hands, and with the scythe in the other. The words written beneath were something she could deeply relate to. Well, they all could, but for her specifically, on that morning, they echoed and resonated with all she had lost and what she couldn't let herself have.
'My blade will not rest, Xindi.'
His blade wouldn't, she knew, and neither would hers. And with their jobs came the frat rules and regs. There were no ifs or buts about it. It was a no-no. By letting this happened, not only had she potentially put herself in deep shit, she may have very well ended his career. With the Xindi threat, the last thing they needed was to lose good soldiers for a night of carnal pleasures. But you trust him. That voice again. Did she really? Letting her guard down like this she hadn't done in years. Trust or no, this could not be good. It was a bad sign. It was dangerous, she told herself.
She pulled her other hand draped over his ribs and caressed along his side to the back of his thigh before going over his bum appreciatively and finding the dimples on his lower back. What are you doing, kiddo? Getting an eyeful while he sleeps, while you still can, before you slip out like a coward? Right. Kissing his back one last time, she pushed herself away from him. She sat on the side of his bed gingerly, hoping she could make good her escape without waking him up.
Grabbing her clothes from the floor by the bed, she got dressed quickly, silently, her eyes fixed on his face partly hidden by the sheet and pillow. He looked so young. His features were relaxed in his sleep and since she knew first hand about his training, about how you always slept with one eye opened, she knew he trusted her too. Somehow.
She picked up her boots, and turning back to him, she felt a yearning that only strengthened her resolve. You're getting soft in your old age, McRae, she kicked herself mentally. Come on, get out.
Bending down to kiss him again, because, hell, she couldn't help it, her attention was once more caught by those little scars peppering his shoulders and shoulder blades. In the daylight, she could tell now that they weren't caused by shrapnel or any kind of weapon she knew. And thinking of Mars, she couldn't find anything that would have left this kind of marks. Peering closer, her index hovered above one. It looked like a burn, she decided. A cigarette burn? She swallowed thickly, not liking where this probably went. And again, she surprised herself - and scared herself - with how much she wanted to know, wanted to know about him, wanted to know him. Christ, get a grip.
With that, she stood up and with a look of regret etched on her face, she headed for the door.
-
He'd woken up in the middle of the night, hearing a banging of sorts. A couch or wall. Julian wasn't really sure, but forgetting where he was, he shot up in bed all too prepared to be dragged out of bed by Thom. One who never could sleep light, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he read the LED before remembering where he was. In his room. The noises continued and soon Julian put an I.D. on them, and not wishing to hear Derick and his flavour of the week, the younger brother pulled the covers up over his shoulder and began a softly sung round of "When the Saints go Marching In" in good attempt to put himself back to sleep and dismiss the animal love making going on in the next room.
The next morning, Julian awoke bright and early, needing to get to his lab for report writing that was due. A random woman's shirt had been flung to the side of the couch, and not recognizing it, Jules had picked it up, folded it and set it on the end of the table where he now sat. Donned in nothing more than boxers and a sleeveless tee-shirt, he sat eating his breakfast and going over his padd.
Quietly, Sloane opened the door and slipped out of Derick's room. The fact that she had managed to get up, fondle around for her clothes and get out without waking Derick wasn't lost on her, and only reinforced her resolve to do what she was about to. Taking a deep breath, her hand still on the door, she tried to calm herself. Now, the shirt. She knew it had to be in his living area somewhere. She remembered that much.
Turning around, she nearly dropped the boots she held tight to her chest.
Hearing Derick's door open, Julian turned, half-expecting it to be his brother. Instead, it was a nice view of a dark haired woman who had to be only a few years older then they were. Realizing he should probably have left the shirt in the bathroom for her, he cursed his lack of courtesy but there was really nothing he could do about it now.
Putting down his utensil, Julian greeted Sloane. "Good morning. Sleep well?" Because this woman was Derick's, and because he had been in this similar situation before, Jules was not in the least bit phased or freaked out by his brother's women.
Sloane swallowed nervously. The last thing she had anticipated was to meet someone on her way out. This was another sign why all this was such a bad idea. At any other time, she wouldn't have entered a stranger's place without casing it first, she wouldn't have slept so deeply, and she wouldn't be caught half dressed by her lover's brother trying to flee. Lover? She was doing it again. This was getting SO out of hand.
Clearing her throat as she approached the kitchen table, she replied with a nod, "'Morning... yes, I did." And at least that was the truth. She hadn't slept much, but the few hours she had, had been the best in a long while. Her eyes quickly appraised the man sitting at the table and she added, "You his twin?" It was like she was looking at a version of Derick with longer hair, slightly softer lines. It was uncanny.
It was rude of him to simply sit there, so getting to his feet, he stuck out his hand to Sloane. "Yes. Sorry. Julian. Julian Rickman," he added, because sometimes they didn't get Derick's last name. "Are you hungry?"
Well, that was certainly a surprise. A twin, and a well-mannered one at that. The siblings were like night and day to her in that moment, and it was somewhat in a daze that she automatically extended her hand to grab hold of his, giving it a good, firm shake.
"Nice to meet you," she said, declining to give her name for obvious reasons. Well at least to her. "Thanks for the invite but err..." she said, glancing behind her at Derick's room, "I gotta go." Her voice had taken a pained tone suddenly and she pulled her hand back nervously. "I'm sorry," she said, already starting to step back, towards the door.
"Oh, no. It's okay. Derick never minds." He gestured to the kitchen. "I can make you some breakfast... No trouble really. We have eggs. A bacon substitute. I can even fake you a really mean omelette."
Confused, she narrowed her eyes at him. Derick never minds? "Aw, hell," she let out when she caught the meaning. "No, really. Thanks, but this is a bad idea." Turning around, this time she made it to the front door. Keying it open, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes moist. She swallowed hard again. "Tell Der... Tell your brother I'm sorry."
She was leaving so fast, and glancing back to Derick's door, he wondered if they had a fight or something for his brother to still be asleep. No. She said to say... well shoot. That could mean anything. "Okay..." Julian's voice sounded off confused.
Glancing at the table, the brother grabbed the neatly folded clothing. "Wait! Your shirt!" His long stride quickly crossed the distance and offered Sloane her belonging.
Shirt? Oh, shit, her shirt! She would have looked really dumb walking around town barely dressed as she was. "Thanks. Thanks for everything, Julian," she said, pulling the garment on.
"No... problem." He could only guess they got into a fight and taking a few steps back, Julian backed off. Still, the free show went on, and he nodded at her.
She opened her mouth as if to say something else then thought better of it. "Goodbye."
"Um.. take care then. Goodbye." By far, this was one of the most bizarre of them.
Stepping outside in the chilly morning rain, Sloane dropped her boots to the ground and stepped into them. "Shit, shit, shit!" she cursed as she stalked off, not looking back.
Returning to his breakfast, he thought on the event for a small while, but soon dismissed it. Julian could never keep up with Derick and his girls. Oh, Jules should have such a problem.
..